Lost In Translation
by headlesshessian
Summary: "Sorry, Mr. Kirkland, I was too busy drooling over your sexy accent to pay any attention to what you were actually saying." Physics teacher Alfred Jones enjoys dropping in on English professor Arthur Kirkland, provided he adheres to Arthur's condition that he pay attention... Yeah, right!


This was written for my friend, the lovely cloudysunnyskies, who fangirls with me and makes my drivers ed class bearable and also has a habit of giving me random fanarts. SO I NEEDED TO REPAY HER SOMEHOW. And seeing as she's a huge USUK person, well... this one's for her. (NOT THAT I MINDED WRITING THE USUK AT ALL. XD)

Oh, and "assoille" in the "context of line 101" means absolve. I never even heard of it until I wrote this, but... whatever. Now you won't have to google it later.

I own the plot, nothing else.

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There was only one thing known that could make Professor Arthur Kirkland annoyed to the point of speechlessness, and if you weren't a blond Frenchman by the name of Francis Bonnefoy, you were not it.

It took Alfred F. Jones about a month to figure that one out. He never had the irritable Englishman as a teacher (unsurprisingly, Kirkland taught English), but general knowledge stated that you _didn't _want to have him as a teacher. Alfred didn't know why (when he asked that Hungarian exchange student, all she did was run off to grab some tissues. Same with the Japanese one. He stopped trying after that), but due to the new Estonian teaching aide who took over fourth period Physics on non-lab Thursdays, he was able to skip that class (to the chagrin of his students) and drop into Professor Kirkland's sophomore English.

Alfred quickly found out why you had to be a _very_ dedicated student to pass his class.

It turned out that Arthur Kirkland was rather distractingly hot.

True, he may have had huge eyebrows and was a bit on the irascible side. But said eyebrows _did _frame the most gorgeous set of green eyes, and they tended to be covered by messy, untamable, gold hair most of the time anyways. And when he was really pissed off-damn, that accent. Alfred unconsciously licked his lips.

Whenever Arthur got truly annoyed, his British accent thickened to the point of being nearly unintelligible-and quite sexy , in the American's opinion. Despite those thoughts, he still consistently tried to annoy the other to the point of speechlessness (like Francis).He quickened his pace to the classroom.

Throwing open the door to the classroom and startling it's teacher (though the class was used to it at this point), he shouted a greeting.

"Heeeeey, Mr. Kirkland! The hero has arrived; class can begin!"

Green eyes glared into cerulean orbs that sparkled with mischief. "Mr. Jones, I told you that if you wanted to drop into my class like this, you are expected to behave as one of my students."

(And boy, had Arthur enforced that rule, right down to making Alfred take the same vocabulary test his sophomores were taking-which he did. Because it was heroic, of course, not because of the way Arthur had looked at him when he handed the finished test over.)

"Sorry, Mr. Kirkland," Alfred tossed him a winning smile, making about half the class sigh. "So, what are we doing today, _professor_?" he purred, watching red spread over the other blonde's cheeks.

"_I'll_ be reading The Pardoner's Tale in Middle English, and _you'll_ be following along with your translation," Arthur said, busying himself with papers on his desk and smiling triumphantly when he found what he was looking for.

"But I don't _have_ a translation," Alfred stated petulantly.

Arthur sighed, looking exasperated with the American (as usual).

"Mr. Loranaitis, lend your translation to Mr. Jones, and share with someone, will you?" The brunette Alfred was sitting next to (Loranaitis, he assumed) handed over the paper and turned to a girl with large greenish eyes that was sitting next to him. He then murmured something to her in a language Alfred didn't recognize but made the girl blush furiously and lean closer to him, holding out her paper so they both could see.

Alfred felt that he did some sort of a good deed for those two.

Satisfied, Arthur turned to his papers and began to read. "'Lordynges,' quod he, 'in chirches whan I preche, I peyne me to han an hauteyn speche..."

Alfred swallowed hard. He understood about 3% of what Arthur had just said, but the _way_ Arthur had said it... he quickly looked around, making sure he wasn't the only one affected by the deep, husky tone the professor had just dropped into. Several of the girls in the class (and a couple of the boys) were staring dreamily at the blonde, chins in their palms.

"And in Latyn I speke a wordes fewe, To saffron with my predicacioun..." Arthur continued, seemingly unaware of how he captivated the majority of his class with his voice.

Alfred continued to listen to the professor, focusing more on the inflection and accent on his words than the words themselves. _Wow... wonder what my name would sound like if his voice was screaming it..._ Once again, Alfred licked his lips, dreamy smile morphing into a smirk for a split second. Lost in a daydream in which the Briton was wearing a green tie that matched his eyes and very little else, he was rather startled when his unspoken request came true... sort of.

"Jones. Jones. Jones! Bloody hell, Jones! Snap out of it!" Alfred was abruptly yanked from his daydream (which, he reflected later, was probably a good thing, as walking out of the classroom with a boner would have been _humiliating_), and noticed that there was a ruler precariously close to being snapped on his knuckles.

Alfred yelped and pulled his hands back in time for the ruler to hit the desk uncomfortably close to where his fingers had been.

"Now that you've rejoined the world of the living, Mr. Jones," Arthur smirked at the confused expression that Alfred was sporting, "Could you please tell me what 'assoille' means in the context of line 101?"

Slightly dazed at the sight of the English professor leaning on his desk in a pose that looked (to Alfred's suddenly perverted mind) incredibly seductive, Alfred found he had no freakin' clue whatsoever about what Arthur was talking about. _Well, now is as good a time as ever to see if I can have the 'Francis effect' on Arthur._

Taking a deep breath (and conquering his sudden nervousness), Alfred spoke.

"Sorry, Mr. Kirkland, I was too busy drooling over your sexy accent to pay any attention to what you were actually saying."

There was a beat of silence as Arthur flushed a color of red that the Spanish teacher would have cooed over had it been anyone else before the class burst into laughter.

"I- You- _DETE_-" Arthur spluttered, finally floored by something that wasn't said by the Frenchman (though equally perverted).

The class continued to snigger as their normally unflappable teacher struggled to regain his composure.

"Mr. Jones, don't you have a class to teach this period?" Arthur said faintly, looking extremely uncomfortable and chagrined by the fact that there were very few threats to use effectively on the younger Physics teacher.

"Awww, Professor," (Alfred always made sure to purr the word 'professor' to see the blush that would pop up on the other's face) "Don't be like that," Alfred said, stretching lazily and adjusting his glasses. Arthur scowled.

"Teacher or not, if you don't leave this classroom _now_, I _will_ give you detention." The class tittered at the other teacher being reprimanded. Tossing the translation back to the brunette to which it belonged (where it was promptly ignored by its owner in favor of cooing something to the girl who held another copy), Alfred stood.

Strolling to the front of the classroom and maneuvering around backpacks in the aisles, Alfred made his way closer to the shorter professor. For every step Alfred took forwards, Arthur matched it with one going backwards. And by the time Arthur realized he was backed against his desk and took a step sideways to avoid the taller man, it was too late. Alfred placed both his hands on either side of the desk; effectively trapping the slighter blonde in front of him.

Leaning closer, Alfred's voice dropped to a husky baritone just barely audible to the classroom as the students fell silent in order to listen.

"Mmmm, and I suppose you'd like that, wouldn't you _Professor Kirkland._ You'd enjoy having me _completely at your mercy_, right, _Professor_?" Alfred's eyes were half lidded as he spoke, pressing himself closer and feeling the other man attempt to hold back a shiver.

"Wouldn't you, _Arthur?_" Alfred whispered in his ear, watching Arthur's green eyes go wide. Smirking, Alfred brought his right hand up to stroke Arthur's cheek, slowly brushing it down over his neck, shoulder, arm, chest, lower, _lower-_

"Ohohoho, what do we 'ave 'ere? _Angleterre _and _Amerique _getting cozy without _moi_?" A heavily accented voice came from the doorway as a tall blonde walked in.

Alfred cursed as Arthur mouthed 'help me.'

Before anything could be done, however, a voice came from outside.

"Fraaaaaaancis! I _told_ you to quit bothering the English department or else they'll confine you to some utility closet on the third floor again and we might not be able to find you until half an hour after the late buses leave like that time _last year!_" Poor Matthew Williams, the history teacher with the same schedule as the perverted French teacher, struggled to catch up with the other man. Rushing into the room, he skidded to a stop once he took in the sight of the room.

Arthur looked equal parts embarrassed and murderous while being pressed against his own desk by Alfred, who looked like a lion who had been interrupted right before he was about to devour some poor helpless gazelle, while Francis looked incredibly amused at the entire situation.

"Alfred! You can't just _assault_ people like that-"

"Mon cher, it doesn't look like he's complaining too much-"

"No worries, Matt, Artie doesn't mind-"

"_EVERYBODY SHUT THE BLOODY HELL UP!"_

The whole room, including the gossiping students, hushed at Arthur's enraged command. Shoving the startled Alfred off of him, Arthur reached over to the chalk board and grabbed the old fashioned pointer he used with the projector. Grasping it with both hands, he brandished it threateningly in the direction of the three teachers.

"Matthew, you deal with the frog."

The history teacher promptly grabbed his fellow francophone by the tie and dragged the other out of the room in a gesture that ended up looking more seductive than threatening, if the glint in Francis' eyes was anything to go by. Alfred looked around for any signs of help from the students. Finding only amusement from the sophomores assembled, he began backing away with his hands up as Arthur brought the pointer into a pose that was normally used for spears.

"Hey, Artie, really, there's no need for vi-"

"_Detention_, Mr. Jones. Be here at 2:30 sharp- or _face the sodding consequences._" The Englishman's smirk was almost feral and his eyes were alight with unholy mischief.

A slow smile spread across Alfred's face.

"Don't worry, _professor_... I wouldn't _dream _of it!"

-_fin-_

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Though favorites are flattering, reviews would be absolutely fantabulous. Just sayin'. Have a lovely day!


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